


When I'm Reborn

by mizzsy



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Crowley thinks he's cool, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 04:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20058271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizzsy/pseuds/mizzsy
Summary: When The Them bring Mr Hale to Anathema, they find the quiet man to be far more than he seems. Once Crowley, an expert in all things magic or otherwise, comes to help them, they discover that the harmless Mr Hale is an angel of God, stripped of his memories and powers and hidden away on Earth for centuries.The group work together to help the man uncover the mystery of his past, bring down his walls of his present, and prepare themselves for what their discovery will bring in the future...





	When I'm Reborn

It had seemed like a good plan at the time Then Anathema was stood in the doorway of Jasmine Cottage with a Very Concerned Frown on her face. Newt had been more direct, muttering an ‘Oh God’ before burying his head in his hands.  
But really, where else were they supposed to bring an injured time traveller except to their favourite witch (and Newt)?  
Mr Hale had moved to Tadfield 3 months ago, 6 weeks after Adam’s 11th birthday and all the weird fuzz around their memories that the children couldn’t quite put their fingers on and that the grown ups actively ignored. He had been of no interest to the little gang at first, being a tweed wearing grown up that reminded them of a teacher. Adam’s Mum had mentioned he seemed a nice, if a little lonely man one night whilst The Them had all been at the Young’s house for tea.  
It wasn’t until three weeks ago, when they had been by the apple trees and overheard R.P Tyler’s nagging of the man that he became Very Interesting to The Them.  
“- not accusing you of anything of course sir! It’s just not good for a close knit neighbourhood like our own when someone moves in and is so secretive like yourself.” The older man rambled in his smarmy, ‘I know better’ voice.  
“I assure you, I just prefer to keep my own company.” Mr Hale said hurriedly, allowing the children to note just how very English and polite the man was-just like a teacher.  
“Ah, that’s all well and good, but it’s not just you’re being unfriendly.” Tyler went on.  
“Such as?” Mr Hale asked, voice becoming less polite or more like Mum’s when Dad’s had stopped at the pub later than they said they would.  
“Well, not to gossip, but there are some rumours one hears. Things that are concerning to everyone in Tadfield!”  
“Oh, I’m aware.” Mr Hale said. There was a breath of anticipation between his words, perhaps because they would be the hook that brought the children into Mr Hale’s life and change the story. Or perhaps the reserved man was psyching himself up for a bout of uncharacteristic rudeness.   
“Yes, I have heard a lot of the village worries about an uptight, interfering busybody of a man who can’t keep his nose out of anyone’s business.”  
Mr Hale smiled at R.P Tyler, who had very much lost his ability to make any expression other than a goldfish impression at that moment.  
“But then, I don’t suppose that has anything to do with me. Good day.”  
The redness of Tyler’s face changed Mr Hale from just another grown up to some Very Interesting to The Them from that moment on. Never before had they seen an adult, especially a boring one, actually say when they didn’t like anyone! And to their sworn bad guy, Tyler! And as all things that pique children’s curiosity, they needed to learn all things weird and unusual about Mr Hale, and what could not be discovered imagination would fill in.  
Beyond his clothing, Mr Hale’s cottage and all it’s books and tit-tat seemed similarly old and dusty. Through listening to Mum’s and Dad’s, impromptu visits to collect an imaginary ball, and some very discreet peeping through the window, they saw how the cottages shelves were filled with treasures and rubbish from all sorts of different old times, old even by old people standards.  
“He has a first edition Paradise Lost!” Mrs Dimble had exclaimed within The Them’s hearing. “It’s just like new too! Like he only bought it yesterday!”  
Mr Hale was also very forgetful-forever losing something or another around Tadfield. He always showed up eventually with a sheepish grin that old ladies loved, muttering ‘lose me head if it wasn’t attached’. He also seemed to have trouble remembering dates, although where some people lost track of the days, Mr Hale seemed unsure what decade he was currently in. He’d once enquired after The Them’s ages, commenting that the 1950’s had been something of a boom for births. His polite smile quickly dissolved when the children corrected him, quickly excusing himself with an absent shake of his head,  
And no one, not even the persistent and nosy R.P Tyler, seemed to know where he came from before arriving in Tadfield.  
The Them spent many a sleepover sharing theories on where the odd man came from, but it was Wensleydale who provided the final piece of evidence they had needed.  
“Look!Look” he had shouted, red faced and running towards their hideout waving an old polaroid in hand. “I figured it out!”  
The photo was a leaking black and white still found in an older relatives collections that had ended up in one of many ‘memory’ boxes around the house. It held a pose of Mr Hale in his usual waistcoat and an unusual tophat, camera catching the slight turn of his head as a permanent blur. He stood in front of a mighty ship labelled ‘Titanic’, and written in faded cursive on the back was’ James-1912’.  
Excitement had overtaken The Them as the only logical conclusion fell into place. Mr Hale could only be a time traveler, come to defend the world from intergalactic threats like in Doctor Who.  
And so, Mr Hale had unknowingly gained a four-children entourage for the past week, hoping they could help save the world and be taken on an adventure in Mr Hale’s TARDIS.  
Instead, an unfortunate series of events unfolded, which led them not to a spaceship, But Anathema’s door with an unconscious Mr Hale dragged between them.  
“Ok,” Anathema said with far more calm than the situation deserved, “tell me what happened.”  
“Well,” Brian began whilst the rest of the children stared at their shoes, “we were following-” he cut himself off with an ‘oof’, “were watching-_ow_\- we _happened_ to see Mr Hale out by the apple trees. We didn’t go anywhere near him, I promise!”  
“And?”  
“And then everything started shaking. It was a bit like an earthquake, which is very strange given that we’re in Southern England.” Wensleydale continued, pushing past Anathema (politely) and making space for the rest to follow him into the house.  
“It was so loud! Everything was shaking and then WHAM! This huuuuge branch landed right on Mr Hale’s head. We thought he was dead!” Pepper said giddily, happily bringing the limp Mr Hale through the door and with Adam’s help dropped him into one of Anathema’s floral armchairs.  
For a moment it was quiet, all the rooms occupants staring at the pale, bleeding figure in the chair,  
“Is he going to be ok?” Adam asked quietly.  
“I don’t know, I’m not a doctor.” Anathema sighed, “Why’d you bring him here Adam? He should be in the hospital.”  
“We couldn’t take him there- they might realise his secret and then the government would kidnap him for experiments.” Adam replied with a child’s confidence.  
Anathema, being only in her early 20’s and in theory childless, had not yet perfected the soul piercing disappointed stare to make a child truly realise that they had done something wrong. With The Them, however, she was receiving quite a bit of practice.A number of reprimands hovered on her lips and a private one to herself for being a touch too eager to share conspiracies with an 11 year old. Then she caught sight of Mr Hale’s aura.  
Aura was perhaps the wrong word, but the most familiar to Anathema could rely on for the force that surrounded Mr Hale. The everyday aura will encompass the person in fantastic, cascading shimmers of the colour that reflected the inner mural of the person's soul,glowing in a strong shade of whatever emotion they were feeling. The only colour in Mr Hale’s aura was light, as pure as Anathema had never been able to fathom before, in a blinding fashion that defied any articulation of hue and which left both her sights blinded. The spectrumless light didn’t just surround him, it filled his body and a vague outline beyond that, blurring any features to the overwhelming power of the force within. It took a few moments for Anathema to come back to Earth again after a glimpse of Mr Hale’s being, by which point Newt had gently guided her to an armchair opposite the tweed man, and four concerned faces were turned in her direction.  
“Ok,” she said, plans falling into place as she looked at the human again Mr Hale, “tell me everything.”  
*  
When Jack Hale awoke, it was to the sight of the lovely American girl and her quiet chap staring at him.  
“Oh, hello.” he greeted, never one to forget his manners before any worry of how he had ended up in his as yet strange neighbours cottage.   
The two only continue to stare-the woman with pursed lips and the man with mouth hanging open. Right then.  
“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced before. My name is Jack.” he tried, hoping that opening a conversation might end the gawping, “How did I-ah- get here, exactly?”  
The two shared a look that seemed to speak many things, at least for the couple.  
“You had an accident-a branch fell on your head,according to the kids.” The woman said,eyes studying Jack’s face as she spoke.  
“A...branch?” Jack asked, running a hand tentatively over the back of his head, feeling nothing but soft hair.He smiled sheepishly at the couple. “It must have only been a small one. No need for all this fuss.”  
“Actually, it was a rather large one and there was quite a bit of blood. Which was odd seeing as there weren’t any cuts or anything when Anathema tried to help.” came a small voice, taking Jack’s attention to the skinny bespectacled boy and the children surrounding him who nodded in agreement.  
“Well, that’s just ridiculous. I couldn’t possibly have-”  
The woman- Anathema he presumed- cut him off by throwing a coat at him. He’d hardly noticed he was without it in the strangeness he’d awoken in. He stood, ready to make his excuses and hastily leave, when he looked down on the garment in his hand. All along the collar and splattered in a sharp contrast on the back, his coat had been dyed a bloody red.   
“Oh.” he said, running his thumb along the drying stickiness.  
“Yeah. Oh.” Anathema said.  
“That is quite impossible.” Jack protested,hoping one of them would admit to ruining his favourite coat.  
“It sure is for humans. So is having an aura like yours. Which begs the question-what exactly are you?” Anathema asked, arms folded and staring down fearlessly at Jack.  
“I…” Jack mumbled,staring at the stain and wishing for it to disappear, “I’m no longer quite sure.”  
*  
The next morning, Jack woke to find his coat as clean as the day he remembered first wearing it, and not moved an inch from where it had been folded beneath his head.  
Anathema decided she was slightly out of her depth on this one, and reached out to the services of a Mr A.J. Crowley.


End file.
